A/N: 2020 - Revised!

2006 - I've got reviewers begging for more, so here is the tenth chapter, already! Er, don't have anything to say, besides that I'm sorry there isn't much British lingo-I'm not English, you know!

Disclaimer: I'm only famous for my beauty, not for writing books. Sorry!

Draco was positively seething by the end of the week. His plan had backfired so badly. It also hadn't taken him long to deduce that the chocolate she'd eaten at breakfast wasn't one of his. Not only was she not babbling, but she hadn't so much as looked at him since the perfume incident. It had been five days since, and Draco had no intentions of engaging with her again any time soon.

The only solace that he could find in the horrible perfume was that even Pansy kept her distance. In typical 'best mate' form, Blaise made a point of exaggeratedly plugging his nose each time he entered their shared dorm room. Draco soon realized that the scent was magnified when he put cologne on, so there was no masking the horrible smell. Even his teachers visibly struggled not to gag when up close to him. He suspected it was only because of who his father was that they did not cast a Bubble-Head Charm and save themselves the trouble. One could easily smell when Draco Malfoy entered a room, even one as vast as the Great Hall.

How dare she!? Draco fumed, not for the first time. Now nobody will come near me! There goes my chances with Turpin, right down the bloody drain. That wench is going to get it. She is going to get it back so hard. She's going to regret the day she tripped over me. She bloody well will regret it.

Draco was pacing his room furiously Saturday night, thinking about ways to get back at her. Blaise lay on his side, grinning as he watched his friend lose it right before his very eyes.

"Mate, you're obsessed."

"No, I'm not." Draco tried to block him out.

"Yeah, you are. Obsessed. You're nutters over her."

"I just need to get even."

"Why?" Blaise was being horridly aggravating.

"What do you think will happen if she makes the last move? If I don't retaliate?" Draco was incredibly tense as he snapped at Blaise, so much so that he stopped his pacing.

"Let me guess. You're a Malfoy, so of course you can't let a pretty girl like her make the last move. You have to have the last word."

"I'll be a coward. Laughed at. Ridiculed. Scorned. I can not lose!" Draco was somewhat taken aback at his words. He found himself breathing heavily. The degree to which this had consumed him - not to mention how quickly it had done so - overwhelmed him slightly.

Sunday found Draco as tense (and smelly) as ever. During breakfast, he accidentally knocked his glass of pumpkin juice over, spilling the sticky substance all over his robes. Draco decided to spend his morning outside, reading.

The grounds were pleasantly empty, the blustery fall weather being what it was.

Draco loved it. He loved the clouds that hinted strongly of oncoming rain. He loved the staunch breeze that blew in off the lake. He loved the sound of the waves splashing against the small slope of rocks. He loved the sound of the trees, their leaves rustling in the wind.

Draco found a comfortable-looking spot at the base of a tree by the lake. Seating himself, he pulled out his book and began to read.

All was quiet for the first ten minutes or so, but then his focus was broken by the faint sound of laughter, carried to his ears by the wind. Peering around for the source, he spied one possibility. His little corner of the lake was not far from the Quidditch pitch, above which flew a solitary figure. When the next laugh coincided with what he imagined to be a particularly exhilarating loop through the air, Draco knew his suspicions were confirmed. Amused, he set his book down and began watching the figure. Whoever it was, their flying was superb. As he watched, the flyer took a sudden dive, hurtling towards the ground. His view was impeded by the tall stands behind which the mysterious figure disappeared, lingering for long enough to make Draco wonder if perhaps they had crashed. Just as he decided to get up and investigate, however, a streak shot up towards the cloudy sky. The flyer sped higher and higher, stopping well above the pitch before executing a handful of complicated and tricky maneuvering patterns.

Well color me impressed! Blimey, I hope they're in Slytherin. We could use that skill on the team, Draco thought in open admiration. It wasn't often that one saw that much talent in a Hogwarts student.

Checking his watch, he determined he still had some time before lunch before setting out towards the pitch. He heard the laughter once again, and couldn't help but grin. Whoever it was looked like they were having fun, a kind of fun he was familiar with and could relate to. As he neared, he was able to get a better view. Whoever it was had a lean figure and was probably female, judging by the lithe moves and lilting edge to the laugh. She was still too high up for him to make out any identifying details, such as house color or even hair color. She turned back towards his end of the pitch and came to a sudden halt, her laughter cutting off just as abruptly. After a beat, she turned around and shot off towards the other end of the pitch, swooping down out of sight again.

Draco stared after her, puzzled. I wonder what that was all about. She didn't see me, did she?

Recognizing that he would be unable to focus on his book, and finally feeling somewhat chilled by the breeze, he spent the rest of his morning meandering the castle.

After dinner, Draco began to make his Head Boy rounds. Glancing at his assignment sheet, he noted that Weasley was scheduled for Prefect duty that night. Well then, let's see if we can't find the little Weasel and have some fun.

Draco began his patrol, encounting nothing but deserted corridors for the first half hour. Having completed two floors, he had proceeded to the next and was about to turn a corner when he heard voices.

"...Hey, come on. I know I've been an idiot, not seeing you sooner. Just - please, give me a chance!" Potter's voice was easily recognizable.

"Look, I'm sorry Harry. I can't."

The next thing Draco knew, a streak of red flew around the corner and crashed hard into him.

"Oof! Get off me, Weasley!" Draco bit his tongue the moment the words left his mouth.

"Sorry," she muttered as she picked herself up and ran past him, either oblivious or uncaring of whom she'd bowled over.

Bloody hell, woman! He scrambled to his feet, looking around the corner to see if Potter was still there. He wasn't. Draco was disappointed - he'd have liked the opportunity to dock some points. Uncomfortably, he realized that wasn't all he was feeling. In that moment, he found that he felt something for Weasley… sympathy?

A/N: 2020 - I'm glad to have been able to revise this one - it seems like a good opportunity to start directing Draco in the right direction...

2006 - Sorry, I really did try to make this as long as I could, but it's time to switch to Ginny's perspective on things. Hopefully the next one'll be longer! R&R!